


something wicked this way comes.

by adoreloux



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: But maybe it should be idiots to lovers instead, Creepy little supernatural town based somewhere in England probably, Fantasy, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Minor Sick Scene, Supernatural Creatures, This is between Harry and the OMC/James
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:56:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29864649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoreloux/pseuds/adoreloux
Summary: A story of Harry's questionable dating life, Louis just wanting the radio to play decent songs, and there being some truth to the slightly less than ordinary flipper footed friend out in Snell Lake.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44





	something wicked this way comes.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I've labelled this piece of work as Mature, purely due to the dubious content between Harry and James (OMC) - it doesn't go into explicit detail around what James does to Harry, but it is mentioned and implied, and due to the nature of James' character, Harry is under the influence/spell/drugged for the entirety of their relationship. 
> 
> If this makes you uncomfortable in any way, shape or form, I totally understand and implore you to click away.
> 
> To anyone that does read this, I hope you enjoy - please leave a comment or kudos, or come chat shit to me about cryptids over at my [tumblr!](https://liamloveslarry.tumblr.com/)

The Town Hall lights have been flickering on and off again and the radio hasn’t stopped playing 80’s powerhouse music since yesterday morning. Mr. Roberts was trying to make a speech about recycling and using the correct colour bins when the old-fashioned technological piece of crap that usually lay dormant in the corner spit out an electric wad of fluff, made a few hiccuping sounds and started playing Girls Just Want to Have Fun. All Mr. Roberts had done was roll his eyes and carry on, but the radio seemed to get louder the more he spoke about which perishables go in which compartment. Louis stared with baited breath and a small smirk at the way Mr. Roberts’ teeth started to grit through his smile until the wiry haired man had had enough and stormed over to the hunk of junk and unplugged it.

Not like it stopped it though. It just seemed to get worse. Once it switched to Simply Red the counsel of people cluttering the stuffy hall simply groaned and left the building.

Somebody clearly didn’t like recycling.

+

“I hear the radio is on a bit of a mad one?”

Louis peeled his eyes away from the television where it was showing a grainy King Kong bang his chest while a frightened Fay Wray shook in his gigantic hand and looked over at his flat mate.

“No more than usual, though next time I wish it’d play something a bit better?” Louis shrugged, “I might slip it a note or something.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“What?”

His flat mate sighed and walked over, leaning over the back of the couch and folding his arms across his chest.

“You know that’ll just piss Mr. Roberts off even more, the man’s close enough to an aneurysm as it is, please don’t torment him any further.”

Louis turned his head and looked into the mossy eyes that were staring back at him, one strong brow inched up higher than the other while a flat pout lay across the man’s mouth.

“I promise,” Louis swore, and his flat mate grinned. “To only request the best of Abba from now on,” the smile fell from his flat mate’s face as he groaned, head thunking down into his arms.

“ _Louis_.”

“ _Harry_.” He mocked back. “Look, the radio’s haunted already, there’s nothing we can do about that, the best I can do is tell it to play better songs.”

Harry doesn’t move his head.

“I’ll even ask it to play that something from the Greatest Hits album.”

Harry peaked one eye open and slid it towards Louis.

“You promise?”

Louis crossed his fingers over his chest and smiled.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, lifting his head and butting Louis in the temple.

“Do you think they’ll list you as Mr. Roberts’ cause of death on his autopsy report?”

The sniggering sounds of laughter drowned out the booming roar coming from the television.

+

In 2015, Bridgefell Peak was labelled as the worst town to live in. Since then, it’s gone slighter higher in the ranks, but that’s only because the local Wendigo spared the reporter’s life by the skin of his teeth and because he was in a good mood that day. The reporter promised to take it off the list once he found out what would happen to him if the Wendigo was ever in a bad mood. 

It’s not really that hard to find, but saying that, it’s not something people usually seek out either, and if they do, they don’t stay for very long. It’s nestled between a long row of hills and a sharp windy road that leads towards the M6. Later found not to be a secluded service station where you can eat a greasy burger in peace one family had realised when they stumbled down and into a fairy’s nest. Turns out, that fairy had teeth and the poor family didn’t even see her coming.

Its forefront is sheltered by weeping willows and wilting greens while the pothole infested tarmac paves the way to a small town whose lights are always on and its very own lake is home to its very own flipper footed creature.

One time the gardener tried to get rid of it by pouring barrels of salt into the already murky water, but the large, long necked cryptid had just stuck its flipper in the air and whacked it down, complete with a healthy splash of water, onto the poor man.

He didn’t go near the lake again after that.

Louis had been born and raised in this town and watched people come and go all the time. People of the slightly more…unique variety stay for a bit longer until they to, decide they’ve outgrown their surroundings and leave. Some are good and some are bad. Louis was pretty much used to the going’s on within the small town, however his friend Niall had no idea he’d shacked up with a Phoenix who was later found to be using his spare bedroom as a nest. He hadn’t known what she was until he’d come home from work one day and saw two clawed talons resting atop his coffee table instead of slipper clad feet. She’d subsequently manhandled him into his bedroom, handcuffed him to the radiator and set fire to his bed before raiding his house.

Luckily, he’d been able to wiggle one of his hands free and called Louis before anyone. They’d both sat in the ambulance afterwards while their fingers clutched warm tea and a paramedic placed a shock blanket around a stunned Niall’s shoulders. 

“You look a bit shaken up.” The paramedic had said, thin lips morphed into a sympathetic smile as his hand gently squeezed Niall’s shoulder.

“Of course, I’m shaken up! A bloody bird just set fire to my bed whilst I was handcuffed to a radiator, I’m the most shaken!”

Louis had subtly shaken his head at the paramedic and mouthed ‘he’s new’ to which the paramedic nodded and walked away, stopping near the police car to write something on his clipboard. The sound of the woman’s screams as she was being arrested mixed in with the high-pitched squawk relating to a six-foot feather fledged Phoenix caused the police radio to emit a strong whistling sound that had everybody clutching their ears.

She was placed in a muffler after that and Louis vowed from then on to never answer Niall’s phone calls again.

+

“So, where are you heading tonight?” Louis asked, eyes slit suspiciously and roaming over Harry’s form, noticing the way he kept tucking and untucking the bottom of his shirt until he sighed and ultimately left it tucked in due to the creases that were now forming along the hem.

“Hm? Oh, just…out, y’know?”

Louis picked up the remote and muted the television.

“Yeah, but you only tend to wear that shirt when you pu-oh. _Oh_. Who is it?” Louis sighed, and mentally prepared himself for the anguish that would happen in a roundabout 2-3 months.

Like it always does.

“Who’s what?”

Louis rolled his eyes.

“Don’t ‘who’s what’ me. You’re obviously dressed up for a date and you keep checking your grin in the mirror, which is quite terrifying by the way, so stop doing it and answer my question.”

Harry’s mouth fell and his cheeks warmed while he glared at Louis through the mirror, adjusting the buttons of his collar slightly.

“It’s just a guy, I met him the other day when he stopped and asked for directions. He thanked me and asked me for a drink, I’m only being polite.”

“There’s being polite and there’s being eaten.” Louis mumbled.

“That happened one time, will you let it go?”

“Harry, I had nightmares for weeks, no I won’t just let it go. You were practically halfway down his throat when I made it home, not to mention his teeth!”

Harry stopped fidgeting with his collar and smirked.

“He did give one hell of a blowjob, though.”

Louis shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Not the point! Anyway, you said this guy stopped and asked for directions? Directions to where?”

Harry at this point was hopping around the small living room and trying to wedge his foot into his boot while simultaneously checking the time on his watch.

“He said he was new to the area and that he needed help finding his address.”

“Help with…finding his own address?”

“His _new_ address, there’s a difference. You remember when Sally moved in and the road took her straight into the lake, Fletch had a field day and he even stole one of her tyres!” At this point Harry had formed a twitch in his left eye as he tried to stay calm.

“Yeah, I do. And I also remember when Sally had turned out to be some old druid that was stealing Mr. O’Malley’s sheep and drinking their blood.” Louis responded dryly.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

“What’s your point?”

Louis narrowed his in reply and threw his arms up in exasperation.

“My point is! Is that people don’t just move here for no reason, most, if not all have had bad intentions, desires, whatever! The only people who’re good are the ones who were born here, supernatural creatures aside, and both you and the guys, and none of you have tried to kill anybody,” he thinks about Niall’s rum punch and winces, “yet.”

“So, we’ve had a few…minor inconveniences in the past,” Harry shrugs, not bothering to hide his eye roll. “This guy seems safe, plus it’s just a drink, nothing more.”

“Yeah bu-“. Louis tries to butt in but Harry speaks over him.

“Lou, I’m already late, can’t this wait until later? I promise I’ll be safe and you can tear my head off after, I’ll also let you ask me all sorts of questions you’ve got rattling around in that wonderfully weird brain of yours once I’m back, yeah?” And with that he’s picking up his phone, keys and wallet and heading straight for the door.

“Don’t wait up!”

And then the door shuts.

Louis huffed and flopped backwards onto the couch, it isn’t as if he doesn’t trust Harry, it’s who he’s with he doesn’t trust. 

There’d first been the banshee that screamed every time they had sex. For some reason they only got premonitions of dead bodies when engaged in intercourse and Louis had to invest in earplugs to get to sleep until Harry had inevitably broken it off with them. Something about inconceivable differences and them not being able to get Harry’s brew just right, but Louis knew Harry’s ears were bleeding just as much as his.

Then came the sylph who Louis caught floating around the living room more than once and ended up causing an electrical storm in Harry’s bedroom. He’s still paying for damages for the hole in the wall.

Then there was a unicorn that threatened to impale Liam when he touched Harry’s shoulder, the merman who tried to drown Harry after an argument and a bodach who tricked himself into looking hundreds of years younger and tried to use Zayn as a human sacrifice. 

So, forgive him for being a little wary about Harry’s new conquest. 

There isn’t much he can do right now and it’s hard enough wrangling Harry on a good day, so he decides to grab a beer, put a film on and wait until he returns.

The lads laugh at him in the group chat and tell him to stop being so over-protective, but he quickly sends a picture of the gremlin that sometimes stalks Liam’s house and as if by magic, the chat goes quiet, until Liam responds with a single ‘Fuck You’.

+

The next morning Louis stops his alarm clock with a fist and a groan, sliding down into his duvet and trying to find the warmth that was surrounding him only a few seconds earlier. 

Harry hadn’t returned home last night, or at least he hadn’t when Louis dragged himself to bed. It’d gone midnight by the time he face planted into his pillow, eyes sore from stretching sideways every ten seconds to stare at the door and brain tired from wishing it would open and to reveal a certain brown-haired man.

He decides to make his way downstairs after not being able to fall back asleep and takes note of the claw marks etched in the wall, next to the banister. He narrows his eyes and touches the jagged edge with his fingertips, _huh_.

They weren’t there yesterday.

Harry can add this to his ever-growing list of what he calls ‘minor inconveniences’. This is up there with the hole in the wall, Louis thinks, and that’s not even fixed yet after eight months.

He drops down onto the last step and spots another pair of shoes next to Harry’s boots, they look expensive and Louis wonders what would happen if he put them in the bin.

It also means the guy is still here. The guy who somehow couldn’t control himself and ripped Louis’ wallpaper to shreds last night.

He tries not to roll his eyes and feels them twitch instead.

He doesn’t know which is worse, the ever-growing bubble of stress sitting beside his left temple or his ever-growing list of repairs for damage done to the house.

Not wanting to make a decision on that just yet, he makes his way through to the kitchen and flicks the kettle on, opens up the bread bin to pop a few slices into the toaster and grabs the butter and jam from the fridge.

He’s halfway through his toast and swallowing a mouthful of coffee when a half-naked figure stumbles into the kitchen while stretching, eyes blinking blearily at the morning sun streaming in through the window.

“You’re paying for the wallpaper.”

The figure, who turns out to be Harry wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and one sock, grunts and turns to face Louis while grabbing a mug from the cupboard and scooping a heap full of coffee into it.

“What?”

Louis takes a bite of his toast and nods out into the hallway.

“Your friend apparently couldn’t keep it in his pants or his hands and teared up the wall, I have to say it’s a first.”

Harry finished stirring his coffee and came to join Louis at the table, lifting his legs and placing his feet next to Louis’ thighs where they were perched on the chair.

“What’s a first? Most people can’t keep it in their pants around me.”

Louis choked a bit on his toast and rolled his eyes.

“I meant the wall you idiot, and you’re still paying for it.”

Harry smirked a little and blew on his beverage, making a quiet humming sound when he took the first sip. He dug his cold toes into Louis’ thigh and smiled when Louis glared.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay. Just tell me how much and I’ll send you the money.”

Louis just nodded and they ate and finished their breakfast in relatively peaceful silence, until Harry had offered to clear their things away and turned around that it had Louis choking on spit and standing up.

“ _What the fuck happened to your back_?” He hissed.

Harry, still clutching the empty mugs tried to twist his head over his shoulder to get a look but huffed when he realised his body couldn’t contort into such unimaginable shapes. 

Louis padded over and took the mugs from his hands, placing them down into the sink.

“Just-just give them here and stop moving, you’re making it worse!”

He guided Harry into the downstairs bathroom that was at this point a graveyard for all things hobby related that didn’t go to plan. The unicycle Harry had bought on a whim lay dusty in the corner and Louis shivered at the memory of a loose wrist swinging from a broken bone.

“Right, just stand there and I’ll go grab another mirror.”

Louis jogs into the living room where a handheld mirror was sitting next to the couch, he used it sometimes to shine the light in peeping tom’s eyes whenever they’d walk past the house and stare inside. He grabs it and rushes back into the bathroom and sees that Harry’s where he left him, though he seems more slumped over than before and he’s yawning into the back of his hand.

“Stand up mate, c’mon.” He makes sure the mirror is in the correct position before standing behind Harry and holding the other mirror against his back. He watches as Harry’s eyes widen before he winces.

“Oh, shit.” He says, and tries to crane his neck sideways before giving up.

Louis reaches out and traces the cuts with the tip of his finger gently, they’re not too deep, but they’re deep enough some have left patches of dried blood along Harry’s back.

“Seems like it’s not just the wall that suffered last night, hm?”

“Do we have anything for them?”

Louis traces one last line but retracts as soon as he hears Harry murmur in pain, head dropping forward once more. 

“Hey, hey c’mon, lift your head up.” He’s trying to be as soothing as possible while the monster that did this is sleeping soundly in Harry’s bed not fifty feet above from them. “Just sit on the loo and I’ll see if we’ve got anything.”

He ends up finding some antiseptic wipes in the drawer along with a bottle of witch hazel and a roll of cosmetic pads. He tears open the wipes and has Harry spin around so his back is facing him before wiping softly at the cuts. He can tell it stings by the way Harry breathes in sharply through his teeth.

“He seems a bit…adventurous. Did you really not notice these before now?”

Louis places one blooded wipe in the bin before reaching for the witch hazel and pads and cleaning at the lower part of his back, just above the waistband of his boxers where smaller cuts lie.

Harry’s flesh jumps and goosebumps prickle when the cold cloth touched his skin.

“To be honest, no. I didn’t realise anything until you mentioned it and last night feels like a blur, like, like I don’t really remember?”

Louis slows his hand and furrows his brows, placing one hand on Harry’s bare shoulder and tugging at a loose curl.

“You don’t think you were slipped something, do you?”

Harry shakes his head and Louis lets out a breath.

“I don’t think so, we only had a couple of drinks each and I made sure the glass was empty before going to the bathroom.”

“Okay good, just.” Louis didn’t really know what to say. He knew for a fact whoever Harry saw last night; whoever Harry has in his bed right now definitely isn’t human. “Just be careful, yeah? No amount of sex is worth a shredded back.”

“I disagree, I think he looks delicious, don’t you?”

They both jump at the rumbly voice coming from the bathroom doorway, and Louis narrows his eyes at the tanned individual who was not only responsible for damaging his walls, but also his best friend.

“Delicious?” He scoffed. “More like ‘infected if left any longer’, you moron. What did you do to him?”

“Louis!” Harry hissed, and elbowed him in the stomach from where he was sat down.

“What?”

“Be nice, he’s a guest!”

“He scratched your back seven ways to Sunday, Harry, I’m not exactly shaking hands with the man!”

Louis could see that Harry was just about to roll his eyes before his brows furrowed. He turns to face the man and asks him:

“They do look a bit deep,” his gaze is somewhat wary, “will they heal?”

The man just grins and Louis takes the time to fully check him out. He’s around six feet tall and has hair like Harry used to before he cut it all off, Louis loathes to say that it falls effortlessly along his shoulders and shines under the florescent light. He’s big in places you’d expect him to be, hands meaty and clean while his teeth gleam through his smile. 

He hates him already.

Maybe it’s to do with Harry’ back and his wallpaper, or maybe it’s to do with the fact that the man has a thin tail wrapped around the bottom part of his leg that glints dangerously each time the tip flicks. 

There’s something off about him though, something he can’t quite put his finger on, and it makes him feel uneasy. He isn’t like the others; he seems cocksure and confident and he watches as Harry’s eyes droop as if he can’t keep them open while a dopey looking smile spreads across his face when he reaches out to trace Harry’s bottom lip with his-i _s that a claw_?! 

He swallows the acid burning at the back of his throat and admits to himself that that this one might be around for a while.

+

Louis starts noticing things a few days later, starting with Harry being late for work.

He never usually is and that’s the problem, he’s an early bird much to Louis’ dismay but he keeps his mouth shut with a smile when the kettle always seems to be hot and there’s a mug left out for him to start his morning brew along with a note that tells him to have a good day.

Harry’s a deputy down at the local police station, he was transferred here nearly two years ago and they’d hit it off straight away as Louis owned an animal rehabilitation centre across the street. They mainly get injured pets or roadkill but one time Louis treated a hellhound because someone decided to open up a portal in the forest and shoot at the first thing that came out of it. It had been Harry’s first day and he had been the first one on the scene. He ended up carrying the wounded creature all the way to the shelter where Louis was stood at the front desk filling out some paperwork for a customer. Louis had taken them into the back room and they spent the next hour introducing themselves over blooded tissues and forceps. 

He still gets a bit choked up when he thinks about how gently Harry had been stroking the scruff of its neck while Louis administered the anesthetic, as if this was a normal dog and not something from another dimension that had glowing eyes and could kill them both with a swipe of its humongous paw.

Anyway.

He’s been banging on his bedroom door for ten minutes, trying to lure him out with fresh coffee and croissants from Betty’s Bakery but nothing seems to be working. He’s just about to kick it down when the door flies open and Harry stands there looking, well.

Looking like shit.

His skin is ashy and there are faint purple bags resting underneath his eyes. His voice sounds cracked when he opens his mouth to speak.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? It’s ten in the morning, you’re late for work!”

Harry sniffles and wipes his hand underneath his nose while he shrugs.

“I rang in, I’m taking today off.”

Louis’ brows furrow and he sees something move behind Harry, a rustling of covers.

_Oh_.

“You’re taking the day off? Why, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Harry shrugs again and half smiles.

“I just feel a bit run down, so James said he’ll take care of me.”

_James?_

At that moment a toned body pops out of the duvet and pulls itself up, propping themselves against Harry’s headboard.

_Oh no_.

He didn’t even know he was here.

“Hello, Louis.”

James smiles at Louis but Louis can see the row of sharp front teeth that are digging into his bottom lip.

“Mhm,” he replies, glaring slightly. He turns back to Harry who’s staring drowsily down at the floor. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to pick anything up?”

Harry takes a second before his head lolls upwards and he grins, but there’s no light in his eyes and his cheeks are ruddy with heat.

“Yeah, promise, I’ll be fine.”

And before Louis can answer, the door slams shut in his face.

His body recoils slightly and he steps back, frowning with a feeling akin to hurt swimming around in his stomach. 

It isn’t as if he and Harry don’t argue, half of their conversations are built on gently insulting one another. Harry intentionally stuck his foot out the other day just to piss Louis off as he tripped over, but he’s never acted like this before, especially around somebody he’s dating. He chalks it down to him being in the honeymoon period and clearly feeling under the weather, but the feeling he had the other day starts to bubble, as if it’s telling him, it’s something vastly bigger than that.

+

Later that evening when Louis’ cooking tea, Harry wanders in with fresh bruises and bite marks around his neck and a slight limp in his step.

He waves Louis off when he tries to ask him what’s wrong and instead grabs the bottle of milk from the fridge, chugs it down until it’s empty and trudges back up the stairs.

Louis doesn’t even realise he’s burning the mince until the smoke alarm goes off.

+

“Something’s wrong with Harry.”

Louis’ in the cattery just at the back of the shelter and tending to some of the weaker cats when he turns his head and sees another deputy from Harry’s department, Mila, standing there with a confused look on her face.

Louis frowns and shuts one of the cages, taking off his gloves and washing his hands with some of the antibacterial spray he carries around in his pocket.

“What do you mean? Has he done something?”

Mila shakes her head and steps forward, handing Louis something. It looks like a file of some kind.

“That’s the thing, it’s what he isn’t doing that’s the issue. Just open that up and tell me what you see.”

Louis leans his shoulder against the cool metal of the cage and flicks through the manilla file, stopping when he sees some police reports that have been written all over in red pen.

“We had a suspect brought in for questioning around a few small fires in the forest, god knows we don’t want another accident like last year.” She pauses before continuing. “I had Harry fill out some of the paperwork for the case, standard procedure, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But when I got the report back, it was covered in….whatever this is. And I was hoping you might know the answer?”

In the boxes where the suspect’s name should be filled in, along with their other details and description of the incident, is Harry’s writing, though it doesn’t make any sense. Instead it seems like Harry’s taken to scribbling both his and James’ name in love hearts all over the page.

But that’s not even the worst thing.

The worst thing is that there also seems to be different symbols and markings drawn down the side of the column and in the box where the suspect’s finger prints should’ve been transferred.

“What the fuck?”

Mila nods her head and sighs.

“So I’m guessing you have no idea too?”

Louis shakes his head and closes the file, passing it back to Mila.

“He’s been dating this new guy, James.” He nods to the file. “Which explains the name but, the other stuff…I have no idea.”

The feeling from the other day hurtles full force in his stomach and he tries to push it down.

“But Harry’s dated before and he’s never done anything like this. What do you think it means?”

Louis’ stumped, between Harry’s bouts of personality changes along with the constant bruising on his body and now this, he’s not sure it’s even his best friend anymore.

“I, I don’t know. He won’t even let me near him half the time, and when I try to talk to him he just grunts and leaves the room.”

Mila frowns.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you two were having problems.”

She says it as if they’re a couple. 

He plasters a smile on his face and stands straight.

“I’ll try and speak to him tonight, see if he mentions anything.”

Louis can see Mila’s face trying to decide on what to do, and she ends up settling for something close to sympathetic.

He hates it.

“Thanks Lou. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again; boss will have his head otherwise.” 

She steps forward and gives him a hug, and Louis feels terribly close to crying.

“It’ll be okay.” She whispers.

Somehow he doesn’t believe her.

He doesn’t even think she believes it herself.

+

He doesn’t manage to talk to Harry that night.

Or any other night after that.

It seems like whenever he tries to bring anything up, James pops up out of nowhere and steals the conversation. Hand wrapping around Harry’s shoulder that seems a bit too hard to be loving, nails digging into his skin slightly. Louis expects Harry to push him off or at least wince, but he does nothing of the sort. 

He just gets that stupid dopey lovey dovey expression and forgets momentarily what Louis was trying to talk to him about. 

Louis ends up telling him to forget about it, knowing that he isn’t going to achieve anything with James there. He does start noticing how he’s becoming more lethargic in the way he moves, however, and the way skin hasn’t really returned back to its normal colour.

He’s even stopped eating which is the most concerning. Or not eating as much anyway, it seems that anything other than raw meat he turns his nose up at. Louis gagged the first time he caught him eating a bloody steak, mouth dripping with red as he wolfed it down.

He also just seems to spend the whole time in bed, only leaving for work occasionally and returning home to lock himself and James in his bedroom.

It’s becoming a problem to say the least.

+

Louis stares at the red door in front of him and knocks twice.

He waits a couple of seconds before it opens to reveal Zayn, glasses akimbo and face sweaty.

“I think Harry might be a vampire, or at least dating one, I don’t know.” He rushes out before Zayn can say anything. Louis looks puzzled when he takes in his appearance. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” 

Zayn blinks and opens the door fully, ushering Louis through.

“Nah, I was just doing some yoga. What’s this about Harry and vampires? Do we need to get the axe again?”

Louis shudders at the memory of hacking up a ghoul who’d been a bit fleshier than originally anticipated. He found green sludge on various body parts for days. At least Harry had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“No, no axe this time. Or at least I hope not.” 

They both take a seat on Zayn’s couch and Zayn flicks the TV off from where it was showing a YouTube tutorial of a woman in a downward dog pose.

“So, what’s up?”

Louis heaves a sigh and explains everything to Zayn. He’s quiet and calculating the whole way through, sometimes making the odd humming noise to show he’s still listening, brows furrowed in deep thought. 

By the time Louis is finished, his chest feels a little lighter.

Less like he’s going to have a panic attack.

“I don’t think he’s a vampire, Lou.” 

“Why’d you say that? Did you not hear me when I said he’s been eating raw meat like it’s going out of fashion?”

Zayn curls one leg underneath his chin and shrugs.

“Does he have bite marks on his neck?”

“Define bite marks?” 

If he means hickies then Harry’s covered in them, at this point Louis’ convinced he’s surgically attached himself to the hoover.

Zayn rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean, you arse. Like puncture wounds, they’d be tiny but noticeable."

Louis thinks for a minute.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Right okay, and no aversion to sunlight?”

“He’d need to leave the house most days for me to know that.”

“Lou.”

He sighs and folds his knees against his chest.

“No, no. The rare time I’ve seen him he’s been fine during the day.”

“And you said he’s been with this James guy constantly?”

“Yes.” He mutters. “They’re practically joined at the hip, every time I try to get Harry alone, he just pops up out of nowhere like a fucking jack in the box and it’s like Harry forgets what we were talking about.” He picks at a loose thread on Zayn’s cushion. “He doesn’t even realise I’m there most days, I doubt he’d even notice if I left.”

His heart squeezes a little tighter in his chest at the thought of losing him and Zayn frowns.

“Don’t say that, of course he would. You live together, you host game nights, you’re practically married!”

Louis tries to fight the blush spreading across his cheeks and coughs, eyes skimming away from Zayn’s face where his lips have formed a tiny smirk.

“We’re just best mates, Zayn. Like me and you."

Zayn playfully gags and Louis squawks, chucking a pillow at him.

“Dickhead.”

“I’m just saying,” Zayn laughs, “you don’t see us living together, do you? You practically had a panic attack last year when Harry had the flu and you thought it was bog fever. You didn’t leave his side for three days until Liam had to peel you off of him and throw you in the shower.”

The blush is growing even more quickly now and Louis feels like he has to pull the collar of his shirt away from his neck to let some air in.

“I don’t see your point.”

Zayn throws his arms up.

“The point is, is that me and the lads thought we hadn’t seen much of you two because we thought you’d finally pulled your heads out of your arses and shacked up proper! But now I just realise that you’re both still being obtuse and Harry’s somehow dating an incubus!”

Louis’ mind is reeling from his friends thinking him and Harry have been having shagging like bunnies but it finally catches up when he realises what Zayn’s just said.

“An _incubus_?!”

Louis thinks if Zayn rolls his eyes any harder, they’re going to pop out of his head.

“Well, yeah!” 

“Wha-I…”

“C’mon, Lou, think about it. You said he’s been like this since he met this James guy, yeah? That they’re constantly doing…whatever it is they’re doing up in Harry’s room.”

“You can say sex, Zayn.”

At this point you can probably see Zayn’s temple throbbing from space.

“Fine, sex! Fucking! Bumping uglies! You also mentioned that he seems more tired, and his skin seems grey? Plus, the not eating properly thing and doodling love notes everywhere? He’s drugged, Lou, under his spell or something and this prick has been feeding off him. By the sounds of it, it doesn’t look like he has much time left.” 

By this point, Zayn’s jumped off the couch and is pulling his shoes on, making a ‘come here’ motion over at Louis and opening the door while putting his phone up to his ear.

“Well, what do we do, how do we stop it, how the fuck do you kill this thing?!”

Zayn looks back.

“You starve it.”

+

Zayn explains everything on the way over to the Niall and Liam’s house.

Apparently, Incubus or Incubi haven’t been seen for years, some even considered them to have been wiped out, but the few and far between cases every so often, told another story. Zayn mentions that he stumbled across a paper one day and read that once they find a host, they dose them with just enough pheromones to keep them wanting more, each time draining their bodies bit by bit until there’s nothing left. 

Louis’ stomach drops at that and he has to swallow down a rising thread of bile that’s burning in the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to think about how this has been happening under his own roof and he had no idea, doesn’t want to think about the fact that this thing just sees Harry as a meal or a toy to play with.

After rounding up Niall and Liam, who were appropriately stood in their front garden after receiving the phone call from Zayn, Niall dressed head to toe in riot gear Louis doesn’t even want to know how he acquired (probably having something to do with the whole Phoenix situation), they make their way to Louis’ house. 

When they get there, something cold settles in Louis’ stomach.

The lights are off when they’re usually always on, even if it’s just a dim lamp in the living room. They’d found out the hard way when pixies ransacked the kitchen for silver things, they mainly took their cutlery but the mess they made was unbelievable. Apparently they don’t like light, even more so if it’s artificial, something to do with it messing up their eyesight. Louis doesn’t mind leaving the lights on if it means deterring them from stealing their pots and pans again, even if their electricity bill is sky high.

He unlocks the door and takes note of the dead, still silence. God, he’s lived in this town for 26 years, that means 26 years of facing the extraordinary, dealing with the unknown and coming to terms with the fact that their postman is a bunyip, but only now does he feel unsafe, only now does he feel like he can’t protect the person who means the most to him.

The rest of the guys follow him in and to any onlooker, they must look like the shittiest version of the Ghostbusters ever.

Liam unintentionally stands on a creaky floorboard that Harry has been promising to fix for months now and the sound emanates all the way through the house. Three glaring heads whip around and he holds his hands up in surrender. Louis grimaces when he hears clanging coming from the kitchen followed by helium sounding giggles.

Great, there goes his new whisk.

Harry’s bedroom is the first one on the landing, the closest one to the stairs. He’d said when he moved in that he needed to be able to race down them as quick as possible if there was ever an emergency in the night and had explained that he can’t risk losing the ten seconds it takes to get to them from the furthest bedroom in the house.

Louis’ heart maybe melted at that but he declines to comment.

All four of them stand around the door, eyes looking from left to right at each other before Louis reaches out and opens it. The room is freezing when they step inside and there’s a slightly stale smell of sex and body odour, but Louis can’t focus on anything other than Harry lying on his back in his bed, completely passed out and wearing nothing other than an old shirt that belongs to Louis and nothing else.

Heart lodged in his throat, he rushes over and collapses by the side of the bed, reaching down to tug the covers over him, both to protect his modesty and because he’s cold to the touch. Liam runs towards the window to close it, but the room is already ice cold.

“Harry! _Harry!_ ” he shakes his shoulders gently and taps his face a few times, noticing how the shape of it is going blurry from the tears gathering in his eyes. “C’mon, Harry, wake up! _Please_.”  
An incoherent mumble falls from Harry’s mouth and he tries to open his eyes, fingers twitching from where his hand is being held in Louis’.

“Oh, thank Christ.” Louis breathes. He turns to find Zayn crouching next to him and rubbing Harry’s legs through the duvet to bring some warmth to him.

He didn’t even know he was there. 

To be honest, he forgot about everything as soon as he entered Harry’s bedroom. There’s banging coming from in and around the house and he suspects that both Niall and Liam are trying to find James.

He sniffles hard and presses his head against Harry’s shoulder, blinking away any un-shed tears.

“Call an ambulance, let them know to hurry.”

Zayn nods and he pulls out his phone, Louis can see that his fingers are shaking slightly.

“L-Lou?”

Louis lifts his head and nudges it against Harry’s temple, cupping his palm around his cheek. His hair is matted and a little sweaty, but Louis would happily breathe it in forever if it meant Harry was alive.

“It’s okay, we’re here, you’re safe.” He murmurs, stroking his fingertip underneath his eye, trying to leech some of the cold from his face.

“W-what hap-"

“Sh, don’t talk, just save your energy, an ambulance is on its way just,” he hiccups, “just sit tight, it’s going to be fine.”

“I need, I need t-"

He lifts his head and promptly throws up all over Louis.

+

They find James trying to leave town, squatting in some bushes just on the edge of the forest. 

Apparently feeding him to Fletch in the lake works just as good as starving him, who knew.

Mila draws the police report up and lists his death as ‘accidental by drowning’.

Nobody comes looking for him.

+

Harry spends three days in intensive care, hooked up to all kinds of machines and wires. He’s also on a drip because apparently his stomach had shrunk down to two times its normal size. The doctor explains that the pheromones he was hit with would’ve made it so he had an aversion to most food, in the end making him gradually weaker and thus making it easier for that bastard to drain him limb from limb. The doctor is stumped by the raw meat escapade, but figures it’s partly due to him having to require enough sustenance to stay alive, and the iron within the meat would’ve done just that.

Louis hasn’t left his side once, it’s like the flu debacle all over again only this time Louis’ actually succeeded at having a shower in between watching Harry for any movement and on a compromise that he can leave the bathroom door open in the room so he can see him from the cubicle. 

The day he opens his eyes, Louis kisses him square on the mouth for the first time ever and then punches him (softly) in the arm.

“What was that for?” Harry groans, smiling when Louis presses another three kisses to his lips followed by a few more to his cheek, nose and eyes.

“For being an idiot, you idiot.” He links their fingers together and says a bit quieter. “And for not doing that sooner.”

Harry chuckles weakly and squeezes his fingers.

“I guess we always were ones for dramatics.”

+

They both take comfort in the fact that Harry can’t really remember what happened. He gets brief flashbacks sometimes, but not enough to piece anything together.

Plus, any nightmares that do make an appearance are swiftly chopped in half by Louis and his uncanny ability at being the big spoon, murmuring unintelligible words into the back of Harry’s neck until he falls back to sleep to the sound of Louis telling him how much he loves him.

+

It’s a rarely sunny Thursday night and Mr. Roberts has gathered the townsfolk into the Town Hall for a monthly meeting, something about strange flashing lights seen over by the hills, when the noticeable sound of the radio whirring up echoes around the room followed by Abba’s 'Take a Chance on Me’.

Both Harry and Louis say nothing but their smiles are louder than the shouting coming from the now red faced man.

Their pinkies meet in the middle.

“I promised you, didn’t I?”


End file.
